


I'd like to be my old self again (but I'm still trying to find it)

by sorryforthedead



Series: now I'm standing alone in a crowded room (and we're not speaking) [1]
Category: The Social Network (2010)
Genre: Angst, Angst without a happy ending, M/M, Post Settlement, Years Later, reunion of sorts, sorry - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-06
Updated: 2021-02-06
Packaged: 2021-03-11 23:55:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,537
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29251059
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sorryforthedead/pseuds/sorryforthedead
Summary: It’s not something he’d expected. He doesn’t even really know what party he’s at right now, he simply doesn’t give a shit. He’s only here to appease the stockholders, he knows one of them is throwing the party, knows one of them with a huge number of shares cares he’s here. He’s yet to run into them, but maybe that’s because he showed up an hour and a half late, criminally underdressed. Mark hadn’t really wanted to talk anyways, he hadn’t wanted to party. He had wanted to go home. He’d wanted to be anywhere but here, and he can’t decide if the face he spots across the ballroom makes him want to stay, or leave and never, ever, ever come back.orMark sees Eduardo across the room at a party, years after the settlement.
Relationships: Eduardo Saverin/Mark Zuckerberg
Series: now I'm standing alone in a crowded room (and we're not speaking) [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2151345
Comments: 24
Kudos: 21





	I'd like to be my old self again (but I'm still trying to find it)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sapphicpaint](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sapphicpaint/gifts).



> Hey guys! I'm more than a little bit embarrassed to be writing what is essentially facebook men RPF but I am so obsessed with this stupid fucking gay divorce movie that I absolutely had to write this. My brain was practically begging me to type this one out. This movie makes me so fucking insane, and I had to get the words out somehow! This fic is dedicated to the wonderful Jules, who is responsible for my markuardo brainrot. Everyone thank her! I love you Jules, hope you love this!
> 
> The title is from All Too Well by Taylor Swift, and I do not own that song, nor do I own The Social Network, its characters or any plotlines mentioned.

It’s not something he’d expected. He doesn’t even really know what party he’s at right now, he simply doesn’t give a shit. He’s only here to appease the stockholders, he knows one of them is throwing the party, knows one of them with a huge number of shares cares he’s here. He’s yet to run into them, but maybe that’s because he showed up an hour and a half late, criminally underdressed. Mark hadn’t really wanted to talk anyways, he hadn’t wanted to party. He had wanted to go home. He’d wanted to be anywhere but here, and he can’t decide if the face he spots across the ballroom makes him want to stay, or leave and never, ever,  _ ever _ come back.

He looks older, obviously, it’s been  _ years _ , but the maturity looks good on him. He’s no longer the young, naïve boy Mark had known, he’s grown confident, strong, like the proper business man Mark had always known he’d been cut out to be. His suit is clean, stylish, totally the thing he’d expect him to wear, even all these years later. Eduardo is a sight to behold, one that somehow still takes Mark’s breath away.

He’s handsome, gorgeous in a way that Mark had never been able to express in words, whether be it because he couldn’t find them, or because he couldn’t stomach saying them aloud, he’s not willing to admit, but god, nothing has changed. Eduardo still has a pull about him that Mark has never been able to deny. 

Mark watches him for a moment, feeling like he’s caught in a memory. He hasn’t seen him since they settled, and that feels like centuries ago now, worlds away, almost another lifetime from when he was living now. Eduardo stands, sipping mindlessly at some drink in his hand, Mark’s certain it’s a whiskey sour, and he ignores how it makes his stomach twist a little knowing he still remembers what he orders. The whole thing takes Mark back, to the really early days when everything was all just beginning. To the writing on the window at Kirkland, to Havard, Yale, Princeton, Stanford. It takes him back to the days before the fame, before the fortune, when he and Eduardo had been best friends. It had been a lot simpler then, those unspoken words flitting between them, an understanding of what they were heavy in the air around them. Mark continues to ignore the worsening twist in his stomach. If he doesn’t acknowledge it, maybe he doesn’t have to acknowledge what it means.

He considers going over to Eduardo, bouncing a little on the spot in anticipation. He doesn’t know what he’ll say and for once, he doesn’t just want to say something snarky, or worse something awkward. For some reason, this feels like a moment that he has to be sure, one where he just can’t mess up. His words mean something, they had always mattered more than he had given them credit for when he was with Eduardo. But he never gets his chance to say anything.

Another man approaches Eduardo, and Mark watches as he lights up, that huge, ridiculously adorable smile crossing his face. Mark remembers that smile, he remembers seeing it from across the room as he crowned a winner to the intern competition, he remembers seeing it across the table from him as they studied in the library. He remembers it in a million different ways, in a million different scenarios all directed at him, only for him, but now, it’s all for the man in front of him. 

He doesn’t know what he’s watching at first, but it slowly dawns on him as Eduardo brings himself closer to the other man, grasping at his hand, tugging him closer. Shock reverberates through Mark’s entire body as he watches Eduardo play absentmindedly with the other man’s tie and press a kiss to his cheek. Mark’s thought about reuniting with Eduardo a million times in a million different ways over the years, but he’d never expected this. Somehow, the Eduardo of his mind had always been timid, willing to reunite with Mark and regain what they had before, regain what Mark had found himself unable to get over, no matter how hard he tried. He’d always expected Eduardo to smile at him, pat him on the back, follow him wherever he went.

It was naïve. Wishful thinking. The kind of hope that was based in guilt, in knowing he’d fucked up, even if he didn’t want to admit it. He pictured Eduardo when everything was perfect, because it hurt too much to remember the look on his face when everything had gone to shit. His mind had created a reunion scenario that would lessen the pain in every fucked up thing he did, but this moment right here, shatters it faster than he thought possible. The sight of Eduardo, now tucking his arm around the other man’s waist destroys it, levels it, leaves all his thoughts in a wasteland of what he’d thought would happen.

He was stupid. He knows it as he feels the tears burn in his eyes. He’s still stupid, letting them form there. This is where Eduardo belonged, this is where he was always going to end up. Successful, happy, open, not afraid of who he really was. He doesn’t even seem phased, not turning his eyes away from the man. Barely reminiscent of the Eduardo Mark had known, but still so perfectly him at the same goddamn time. It made his heart ache. 

Mark had always maintained that he’d won. He’d gotten Facebook, Eduardo had essentially been silenced, and Mark had always thought he would be the real success, the one with his name written in metaphorical lights. But as he stands now, he realizes he lost. He lost so badly he can barely breathe, no longer able to witness the sight in front of him. He turns, begging his eyes to not let the tears fall, and he leaves. He runs, faster than he has in years, simply needing to get away from all of this. He can’t stand to look at Eduardo for one more second, not when the crushing reality of defeat suffocates him.

Emerging into the dark of the night, Mark finally lets out a breath, watching as it forms in a cloud of condensation in front of him. It’s as cold as it was that night he told Eduardo about his plans, and somehow it feels like some kind of sick retribution. One last attempt by the universe to tell him he fucked up, to tell him he should’ve done better. It makes him want to scream, makes him want to get down on his knees and beg anyone who’s listening to give him a second chance, to let him try again. He just wants to turn back time, have the ability to make decisions again with the informed consciousness built only in years of stewing in guilt and regret. He thinks he’d give it all up just to see that smile directed at him one last time.

But he doesn’t. He doesn’t stop, he doesn’t pray, he doesn’t grovel, he doesn’t even say anything. He knows it’s too late. He knows he can’t make up for all the things he’s done, and he’s not sure he’d let himself if he could. There’s no way to turn back time, there’s no way for him to say all the things he should’ve when it mattered. It was over. It had been over for years, Mark knows that. Eduardo clearly knew it too, if tonight’s actions mean anything. Mark can’t help but wonder if he ever crosses Eduardo’s mind, but he quickly squashes the thought. It doesn’t matter. Mark needs to let it go, he needs to make peace with the mistakes he’s made, with the choices that have built the world he thought he wanted. 

Standing there, shivering from the cold, he knows it’ll never be that easy. Now that he’s seen Eduardo, there’s no way he’ll ever be happy again. There’s no peace to be made. He wrecked it so many years ago, and all for something so fucking stupid. It was never worth it, and god, he wished he’d known that then. 

He thinks he must’ve. 

He wishes he hadn’t ignored it. 

But he can’t go back now, so he just calls a car, determined to put another shitty party to rest, and begins to think about what’s on the agenda for tomorrow. Throwing himself into his work had always worked, had always made it the best it could be. 

He knows now that it had dire consequences, but what more did he have to lose? 

He’d lost everything that mattered already. There was no point in changing now. He would have to soldier on, and attempt to wrench his thoughts from the guilt, the regret, everything he knew he was missing. Maybe being wired in would help. It was the only thing he could think to try.

Maybe if it could distract him it would make it all worth it.

He knew it wouldn’t. 

It was too late. He lost, and he was never going to win again.

**Author's Note:**

> And that's all folks, I have a few more ideas kicking around in my brain that will probably make its way to publication eventually, so if you liked this one please keep your eyes peeled. Those ones may be more happy. I haven't decide yet. As always, kudos and comments are greatly appreciated, I hope you have a lovely rest of your day!


End file.
